The Morning After- One Shot
by khaleesiofthenorth
Summary: Hermione spends the night with a blonde haired man and she can't help but feel that there's something special, when they go for round two the next morning.


Unlike the delirious performance sex that descends after a night out, morning sex is deliciously unpretentious, relaxing, and slow. With the dust of sleep still in her eyes, an arching back, and a contented and effortless giggle, she toys with her lover.

Gathering him in, their ankles writhing together under the sheets. He runs his fingers across her abdomen, she shivers in response as he tangled his fingers in her hair. Her skin was suddenly hot, flushed in response to his waylay attentions. Her eyes were heavy-lidded and slumberous, the gold flecks in the hazel irises darkened now to amber. Her lips were moist and red, puffy from the force of his kisses the previous night.

He began by kissing her, softly, gently. Butterfly kisses, baby kisses, delicate, feathery, barely there kisses that brushed against her forehead and temples, trailed across her cheeks and the soft underside of her jaw, lingered on the sensitive skin of her throat and shoulders. She sighed, feeling as if she were floating, just drifting along in a soft, warm sea of exquisite sensation. A delicious warmth spread to every part of her body. Her eyes became heavy and her limbs became weighted down with languor, making it impossible to move or open her eyes. She felt like a rare, exotic treasure as his lips delicately caressed her face and neck.

There was no fumbling, or furtive rush to hurry through it as quickly as possible. He exhibited no embarrassment. She felt no shame. There was no guilt.

His mouth moved lower, caressing the slope of her breasts, and some of her delicious languor vanished, replaced with a growing impatience for more. She moved restlessly on the bed, her back arching slightly, instinctively inviting a more intimate caress. She heard a low murmur of approval as he descended kissing down her stomach.

She felt the heat first, such incredible heat. Then the soft, sliding wetness surrounding her. And then the strong, insistent tug as he applied suction. She bucked, the ultrasensitive nerve zinging, as lightning streaked through her.

_"Draco,"_ she murmured breathlessly, her voice plaintive and demanding at the same time. He lay very still between her legs, taking his sweet painful time to look up at her through his thick blonde lashes.

_"Draco, please,"_ she begged, hardly knowing what she was begging for, knowing only that she had to have it or die. _"I'm empty, and I ache. Everywhere."_

Draco felt the last vestiges of control vanish at her softly spoken words. He levered himself up her body, taking her mouth in a hungry, eating kiss, filling it with his tongue. She wrapped her arms and legs around him, straining to get closer, wanting to feel his very skin meld with hers.

Hermione's gasp turned into a whimper; and then a ragged moan as he found her. He slid into her as easily as if they had made love a thousand times before. They stayed as they were for just a moment after he entered her- Draco braced his hands above her, Hermione with her fingers curved around his narrow hips- staring into each other's eyes as they savoured the unequivocal, inexplicable rightness of their physical union.

They began to move together. Gently at first, so gently and slowly, savouring the sublime feelings their bodies created for each other. And then faster as their need grew, and faster still, until they were hurtling, headlong and heedless, toward the fiery edge of fulfilment. They went over together this time, holding tight to each other as the world exploded around them.

Producing a grin on her lover's face before the new light of day had even touched his eyes. She smiled as she lay with her head cradled on Draco's shoulder, idly stroking his chest.

Sex could be exiting, yes. Passionate, certainly. Even mind-blowing at times. But it had never been beautiful before. Not until Draco. The thought made her vaguely uneasy, yet happy… and with that she drifted off.

Later, she joins the sun of a Saturday morning with a tranquil, satisfied relish. A tray of toasted muffins appears along with a pot of coffee. If there was a more perfect way to start the day, she hadn't discovered it yet.


End file.
